These men were supposed to kill him, and Tarian accepted that fate if he was weak, but what this old man was trying to do was worse, like what Tarian did to the spear-wielding man.

’How dare he!’

Tarian held the purest blood of the Ascendant, and his Lumina Space could not be violated, not even by his father.

If he were to become the Emperor of his bloodline, then it was important that his Lumina Space was sacrosanct. This old man was going to do worse than killing him; he would strip his dignity.

Tarian stopped trying to fight the darkness; he did not need to. The Royal bloodline would not be insulted.

Most of his life, Tarian always felt he was a man riding a chariot that wanted to go its own way and destroy everything around him. His talent was so powerful and destructive that only supreme control kept everything safe around him.

His mother hated him for the sheer fact that, as a baby, he had nearly killed her scores of times, even though she was an Amber Exile stage Siphon.

That control of his powers became his greatest curse and his greatest source of pride, but in times like this, when his integrity was tested, he would show everyone why no one deserved to stand in the same realm with him.

He opened himself to the lightning, allowing it to flow through him, to fill him, and to let it become him.

’Let all who defy the heavens, feel the terror of lightning... For I am the heavens!’

Tarian did not throw it or did he shape it; he simply let it go.

There was a sort of silence and sound as if there was a long indrawn breath, and the lightning exploded from Tarian in a flood as if he had turned into a sun made of lightning.

It burned through the darkness, and this was just the start, because this lightning was aware, and it roared like a dragon and searched for the thing that dared to stand against it.

In this place, there was only the old man standing, and the lightning found him, and in the briefest of moments, you could see the eyes of the man open wide in shock and fear as the lightning slammed into him and found his core, tore through the barrier of it, and headed for his talent.

The old man screamed as the talent broke. Tarian would have kept the lightning free for longer, but he noted that while this old man was on his knees, he had not fallen.

Tarian admired this spirit, and he drew back the lightning, holding it down with his firm will. Where others would let this power control them, he was the one who controlled the lightning.

"You showed mercy." The old man said.

"I do not throw away useful men. You overstepped, but there is still much to learn from you."

The old man bowed his head. "I yield."

Tarian looked at the five bodies around him. They were Amber Exiles, and they would recover. Already, they were stirring. The sword-woman was stirring... unless their core was destroyed, it was not easy to kill an Amber Exile.

Their bodies were fully under the control of their consciousness, and as long as they had a single life left inside them, they could feed it with Lumina and heal. Regenerating limbs was not possible, but with the aid of high-order potions, they could achieve limb regeneration because they remembered where every single bone and muscle was in their bodies.

Whatever damage he did to them would heal.

"Good," Tarian said as they slowly helped themselves to their feet. "Again tomorrow... and I will be blindfolded." 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

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The baths were warm, the water scented with oils from the eastern provinces, the steam rising in clouds that hid the walls.

Tarian sat in the water, his body aching in places he did not remember being hit, his mind running through the fight, through the moments where he had been fast and strong.

He had won... he always won.

There was no pride in this fact. Tarian knew he was a big fish in a small pond, and the only way to show his brilliance and to find true competition would be outside this city, in the center of the continent, where Angels and great Siphons could be found.

Only in such a place did he expect that there might be a possibility for him to lose... but he would not lose; his destiny was to become Emperor.

He buried his head inside the water, allowing all the herbs inside to flow through his skin and enhance his muscles. His attributes were extremely inflated for a Mist Phantom, but there was always room for growth.

His father’s steward was waiting when he emerged. The man was old, as he had been serving the Arathor family since before Tarian’s grandfather was born.

He did not bow; he did not need to. As a Void Sentinel, this man had earned his dignity a thousand times over.

"The expedition begins in one week," the steward said. "You will lead."

"I know."

"The Guilds are sending their best, the Academy is sending its champion, and the Angel has promised a prize for whoever resolves this calamity."

"I know."

"There is another." The steward’s voice was flat, "An Ascendant Candidate. From the Stoneward Asylum."

Tarian’s hands stopped on the towel. "Elias."

"You know him?"

"No." He had heard the name of an Ascendant Candidate that had emerged from this small city, and he wondered if he was the one sent to the Asylum years ago, if he would have been the Angel and not this boy. "What do we know about him?"

The steward was silent for a moment. Then: "His name, that is all. The Asylum keeps its secrets, and your father forbids us to peer deep into the secrets of the Asylum... for obvious reasons."

Tarian looked at the steam rising from the water, "Yes, because we fear her... when it should be the other way around."

The Asylum kept its secrets, the Commander kept her secrets, and his father kept his secrets.

"An Ascendant Candidate," Tarian said slowly, tasting the words. "He walks between the divine and the mundane. Creatures like that should not walk the earth, at least not in my city. So many of them do not serve the throne; they have been left to their devices, and that is not a good thing... power needs to be controlled."

The steward said nothing.

Tarian’s eyes glinted, ’An Angel can only be truly differentiated from a Siphon at the Void Sentinel level, before then, he is fair game, as long as he is in my city, I will make him kneel.

The steward glanced at him, "You do know he is being trained by a powerful Angel, and do not look at her youthful appearance, the Commander is many thousands of years old... Tarian, you are eighteen, and you do not truly understand what the weight of all those years means."

Tarian looked at the steward, and his eyes were the eyes of a man who had already begun to plan.

"Can an Angel serve a lord? Can an Angel be tamed? Can an Angel be made to kneel?"

Not waiting for an answer, Tarian walked off. There was much for him to do. Behind him, the steward was looking at him with a weird look in his eyes.